Page:Poems Craik.djvu/95

Our small boat heaves upon the heaving river,
  Wearily, wearily:
The flickering shore-lights come and go by fits;
Towering 'twixt earth and heaven dusk silence sits,
Death at her feet; above, infinity;
  Between, slow drifting by,
Our tiny boat, like life, floats onward ever.

Pale, mournful hour,—too early night that falls
  Drearily, drearily, Come not so soon!
Return, return, bright day,
Kind voices, smiles, blue mountains, sunny bay!
In vain! Life's dial cannot backward fly:
  The dark time comes. Low lie,
And listen, soul. Oft in the night, God calls.
*****
Light, light on the black river! How it gleams,
  Solemnly, solemnly!
Like troops of pale ghosts on their pensive march,
Treading the far heavens in a luminous arch,
Each after each: phantasms serene and high
  From that eternity
Where all earth's sharpest woes grow dim as dreams.

Let us drink in the glory, full and whole,
  Silently, silently:
Gaze, till it lulls all pain, all vain desires:—